


All These Strangers

by ginamontier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Compliant Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), I'm really sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Multi, Past Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Past Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Season 8, but you have to squint like a lot, purgatory kiss, that had to be a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginamontier/pseuds/ginamontier
Summary: Dean Winchester is not the first human Castiel falls for.Castiel doesn't know this.





	All These Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Aisling's fault.

Castiel didn’t remember them. They had been deleted from his memory for his own sake, for the sake of Heaven’s mission, for the sake of secrecy and his own sanity as he was dragged back by the angels whenever he drifted away, trying to run, to break a system he wanted no part in.

He was used to falling. He had done it many times, in different ways, for different people. But he never remembered, and every time was like the first one.

It didn't mean they weren't important or hadn't meant the world to him once upon a time, ready to drop everything for them in a second. But every time he found them, he was forced to turn his back on them, or do unspeakable things he would try to amend if he had been given the chance to even remember his actions.

The first one was a slow fall. Castiel had been entrusted with a mission, one he had to achieve with a human's help, and for a while, it was just that. His name was Aaron, and he was all smiles and laughs, jokes Castiel enjoyed even if he didn't quite understand. They were deep in the job, months after months of prosecuting God's will and -was it God himself, the one to send them on this mission? Was God even up there? Castiel hadn't seen him in so long.

Aaron told him he had once upon a time doubted God, when Castiel told him about his worries; but after meeting the angel, he was sure God had to be real and a perfectionist, because who else would create such a pure and kind-hearted creature like the angel, if not the creator of everything? And Castiel found himself falling right then and there.

Aaron had a nice smile and his laugh made something flutter in Castiel's heart. It took him a while to understand. Aaron was kind and was always there for him, all wise words and careful touches, Castiel found himself comfortable around him, safe, and wanted him to feel the same way.

Castiel fell in so many ways for the man, and when the task was finally finished, he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. So he didn't.

But Heaven was not merciful back then, or ever for that matter. There were no lies for the believers who wanted to think of a kind God, no matter what Aaron said. Castiel was taken back, ripped from the man's side, and when his priorities were finally discovered by the heavenly host, he was given to Naomi, who was just an apprentice back then.

She did such a good job on Castiel, she was named executioner on the spot.

Castiel cried, even if he didn't feel anything anymore, Aaron's blood staining his hands. And why did it hurt, if he couldn't feel? Who was this man? Why was him so important to Castiel, enough to make an angel cry? What had happened?

All he remembered was the man on his knees, pleading Castiel to snap out of it, but Castiel didn't listen. He was just a human, after all, and angels were meant to fulfill their tasks. So he did.

And the angel forgot, but Aaron was the first.

Then it was a prophet. Her name was Eliana and Castiel was sent to kill her. It was contradictory; prophets were to be protected by the Host and the Archangels, but for some reason, God had withdrawn his own choice -or were his children disobeying orders? Was it Michael behind the mission?-, for a woman would not be listened to, and as a prophet she was useless. They wondered why God would pick a woman in the first place in such an era. Castiel doubted it was a mistake from God, but rather his children unwilling to listen.

But Castiel couldn't do it, obviously. He was weak, Naomi said it all the time, prone to failure. He had failed. But she was innocent, a good servant of God, and when she had found out about her Sight, she had begun using it for nothing but good. It was an honorable cause.

He decided to stay on Earth, despite his orders, to protect her from the other angels.

At first, he was successful. He didn't kill any angels, but they were too terrified of him, a newfound power surging from within at the prospect of a mission, an actual _good_ mission, even if it meant disobedience. He was beyond that point. Castiel would much rather be killed than let an innocent like Eliana be condemned.

It happened after a particularly big group of angels had arrived. Castiel carved his own chest with a sigil, and after telling Eliana to look away, he pressed it, banishing himself and the other angels. Eliana was left alone in the cabin, wondering what had happened, since that was the first time she had seen something like that go down. Was Castiel even alive?

He had managed to fight them off without killing any of his siblings. They went back to Heaven and he had succeeded.

It was past midnight when he stumbled inside the cabin after a particularly nasty flight, his wings hurting in all the wrong places and covered in blood, both his own and others'. His blade clattered to the ground when he entered and found himself in a tight embrace, slender arms around his neck and a woman crying against his chest. She was terrified, where had he gone? Why was he covered in blood? _Are you okay?_

Castiel didn't have time to answer in such a rush of words and worried fumbling, and then he found himself in a situation he didn't quite understand at first, her arms around his neck again, but this time her hands were carefully gripping his hair and Eliana was kissing him. After a while, he got the hang of it and returned it with the same feeling. And it was such a nice feeling, even if unknown to him.

They should have left that night. The angels knew where they were, and Castiel had to move them again. The cabin was not safe. _They should have left that night_. But Naomi was right. Castiel was weak and prone to failure, and he failed yet another mission when he fell asleep that night, both of them still clothed of course, not quite there yet, but Eliana's arms around him as he tried to shield her with his own body, and wings she couldn't see.

_They should have left that night._

Because when morning arrived and they were getting ready to move again, the angels were already there, and Castiel was taken away. Naomi was waiting for him, her punishment harder this time- she was _mad_. Michael himself had given her the order, hierarchy forgotten, and now that she was executioner, she could do it however she liked. She made sure Castiel couldn't remember even his own name once she was done screwing up his head.

He didn't go back to Earth for years. He wasn't sent for another mission in so long. Castiel heard through rumors about such a tragic event, and one of his siblings sent after a human named Eliana, who had managed to avoid the Host for a long time before she met her divine fate.

Castiel didn't ask. He had no idea what the mission was about.

There were others, of course. Many times Castiel had fallen, and the same amount of times he was forced to hurt those he loved. Forced to forget about them and their importance in his life, and that he had fallen at all, to keep the rebellion against Heaven at bay. Everyone in the Host knew about it, about his recklessness and disobedience, the trail of bodies he left behind, knew about how Castiel’s heart was malfunctioning because an angel falling in love with a human should have been unheard of. But it wasn’t.

And it happened time after time throughout the centuries.

Castiel went through many vessels, male and female, many people, and many, many years before he met Dean.

Dean, who was all smiles and laughs, so much like Aaron, although Castiel couldn't see the resemblance- just the familiarity in Dean's eyes glinting and his chest rising and falling out of breath for some particularly bad joke. Dean, who was the first one ever to call Castiel just _Cas_ , and the angel loved it the moment it fell from his mouth. Dean, who was simple and had a dry sense of humor, and felt so much despite trying to hide it. Dean, who was just a man with the fate of the world upon him, and Castiel had only ever wanted to protect him from what was yet to come.

Dean, who was his last doomed goodbye.

They had gone through so much together yet such a short amount time in his immortal life. It meant the world for Cas, and he was falling all over again, yet it felt like the first time. After all, he didn't remember.

He also couldn't remember where these feelings would lead him, or what was in the future for Dean. He just felt overprotective of the man, and that was enough.

Castiel discovered his feelings and embraced them way before Dean could get out of his denial. It was a wonderful feeling, and he didn't mind the fall. Would Dean have asked, he would have taken down the entirety of the Host just to keep him safe and content.

All of Castiel's past romantic feelings for his partners, even if he didn't remember them, were reciprocated. It was usually because he was the last one to realize what was going on, and by the time he found out his own feelings, the other part was very much invested. Dean was the first one he immediately fell for, raining down like a shooting star, at his feet the moment he touched Dean's soul in the fires of Hell. He was still much of a soldier then, but that didn't mean the feelings weren’t there, as long as it would take him to understand.

He understood them, eventually, and it would still take a while for Dean to see him as anything even close to a _friend_ , but Cas was alright with it. He may have understood love in different occasions, but he was still oblivious then - feelings are not like riding a bike, they are not something you'll remember how to understand or sort out even if you forget for a while.

It was tiring but beautiful, falling in love with Dean. And heartbreaking, because he was never as much as a tool. But Castiel could let it slide. He never really cared about his feelings much, and it still filled his heart just to see Dean smile through the pain he was daily put through. He was a strong man, and Cas was just happy to know he was okay despite everything. And that maybe, just maybe, he was sometimes the reason Dean would smile so brightly. It was enough to let everything slide, really.

There was a point in which that seemed to change, and it was called Purgatory.

Dean had been _so angry_ at Cas for the last couple of months, accusing him of betrayal only to, later on, regret his every word. Even when he mourned for Cas he was angry, even when Cas apologized he kept on being hurt. Castiel had apparently hurt him deep in a wound of distrust Dean had always had, a wound caused by a faulty childhood and a number of betrayals by everyone, even his own father. So it was no wonder that when he thought Cas, his angel, had betrayed him, it would take him a while to forgive him.

Cas understood it this way. And even if it pained him, he was convinced enough to let it slide once again. Just as much as he was willing to do anything.

He died twice to save Dean, and he begged that it would, at least, earn his forgiveness.

Castiel was surprised to wake up in Purgatory, next to an unconscious Dean. He should have realized something like this may happen; then again, the Winchesters were pioneers in so many supernatural phenomenons, an angel like him couldn’t know anymore what was to happen when doing something that had never been done in the entirety of history.

There was something he did know. They were in danger and it was his fault.

Which is why Castiel left Dean alone; because that way he would be as safe as one can be in a realm full of monsters. The big bad ones were going after the angel, and he'd be damned if he so much as let them get even close to the man. So he ran away- and ran for an entire year before Dean found him by the river and surprised him with a hug.

It was confusing. Dean hadn't hugged him many times, and this one felt the most honest yet, but the moment Cas said he wasn't going back, Dean's face fell and he seemed pissed again. What was wrong with what Cas was doing? Wasn't trying to keep Dean safe a good thing?

It took him a while to understand. Many restless nights in the realm of monsters, many conversations, many close calls, on the brink of death but not quite there. But eventually, he understood. Dean had been mad because he had been worried, and then he was nothing but trying to get them all out, Cas included. He cared, he had forgiven Cas, and he had been worrying about him all the time they spent there.

Castiel suspected, but he didn't expect it at all when, after a particularly nasty fight against some werewolves and getting badly hurt, yet coming out alive, Dean dropped his blade and hurried towards Cas.

It was a short kiss, but it was enough to confirm everything Cas had been thinking. Dean cared. Dean felt for him the same way he felt for the man.

It was a short kiss, and it was not only their first but also their last.

Over as soon as it started, Dean pulled back abruptly and stared at Cas with wide eyes and a stutter in his mouth.

They didn’t talk about it afterward. Not ever. Just knowing what it meant was enough for Castiel, though, and either way, he had already made up his mind. He couldn’t reproach anything because he was going to make something big for himself, and he didn’t care about what Dean felt about it, or him, or what he felt, for once. He was going to do what felt right to him.

Dean had been trying all along to get them out of Purgatory, dragging Castiel with him even when the angel said he had no intentions to get out except to appease Dean. Yet he should have seen this coming.

It still hurt Castiel a thousand times over to see the desperation on Dean’s face when, hanging across a portal to the mortal world, their hands barely holding on, the angel let go and told Dean to go without him.

Castiel should have foreseen when everything went to shit. And he would have, had he remembered his past stories and why the Host would have an interest in dragging him out of Purgatory, and who the angel sitting across him at her own desk was. But he didn't, and so he didn't foresee it, the entire operation to drag him out or how the tip of the carving instrument would feel against his temple.

He didn't foresee, either, how he would forget about the traumatic events or the way they hurt him. He didn't remember the way the torture made him lose inside himself, a shell of who he was, a soldier at their orders. This time it was different, though, because, for some reason, he didn't forget Dean, like they had done several different times. Naomi was frustrated- the man wouldn't get out of Castiel's head.

It didn't matter. She adapted her plans to the situation.

Castiel found himself in a much familiar position even in his inability to remember, an angel blade in his hand and a loved one's throat being grabbed by the other. Dean's face was _wrecked_ , covered in blood and bruises. Castiel had been ordered to kill Dean a thousand times over, and this should be _easy_ , just another one in Naomi's list. Dean had proved to be a bigger complication than the others, but she had managed, and now Castiel was screaming in his own head for it all to stop, even when his body would just respond to the torturer's orders.

Dean was mumbling through cut lips, pleading, and Castiel thought he could hear something through the fog in his mind, but it was far, far away. He was pushing through, trying to break through the walls Naomi had put there, and at some point, he could regain his sight, which was already focused on Dean through is unconsciousness. But now it was real, it was _him_ the one locking eyes with a hurt Dean, bruises _he_ had put there, his own hands bloodied.

It was then that he remembered them.

In a split second, just a moment, all of them were back in his mind. A flood of memories, of laughter, smiles, kind words and glinting eyes. Hope and love and hurt and sadness. Pain and anger, and lots of warmth. They were all of this to him, a whirlwind of emotions, and it was enough to make him snap out of it and see the pleading man kneeling in front of him.

_Castiel dropped the blade._


End file.
